


Darkness Falls

by leiascully



Series: The FBI's Most Unwanted [22]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Bugs & Insects, Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If they were going to get mummified by ancient insects, at least let it be together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: 1.19 "Darkness Falls"  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Mulder sat in quarantine, waiting for Scully to wake up. She looked so small in the stark white bed. He had forgotten again that she was small. She strode through life as if she were ten feet tall. Even in the forest, out of her element, she was so brave: she climbed trees to saw down mysterious cocoons, she hiked through old growth.

He had told her it would be a nice trip to the forest. Nicer than the mountains that the manitou had haunted, he'd thought, remembering her discomfort. In the hazy headspace of recovery, it seemed like synecdoche for every promise he would ever break. He should have known by now the value of his convictions. They never held up against the force of the world's momentum.

In the cabin, they had slept close to each other on cots set up side by side that creaked when they moved. Strange how much closer it had felt than the motels, though the walls were always thin between them. In the middle of the night he had woken when her hand had brushed his shoulder. He had clasped her fingers briefly and she had murmured and turned herself over, tucking her hand under her cheek. Later, as the lights began to fail, they had sat shoulder to shoulder, each taking some measure of comfort from the other's presence. It was warmer that way, he told himself, but the warmth was more than physical. She had been weary after her outburst. The support of his shoulder to lean on had been all the reassurance he could offer. If they were going to get mummified by ancient insects, at least let it be together. After two years of being metaphorically cocooned in the basement, what more fitting fate than this literalization of their interment? 

For the first time, he felt the weight of all they had left unsaid. All that he could bring to his lips was, "Scully, I…", and then his imagination faltered. There were no words to encompass the things they had meant to each other, the things they had seen together. There had always been the danger that they would die in the line of duty. It had never felt so close before. They huddled together under the light, Scully dissecting the mechanisms of their potential predators in a low voice. Even with death a flicker away, she was who she was. 

In the jeep, he had thought to shield her, but there had been no hiding from the swarm. There had been no time for last words. He hadn't woken up until he was strapped to a stretcher, a needle in his arm, people in masks all around him. And now he was contained in this white room with its white lights, listening to the machine count out Scully's pulse as he sat by the side of her bed in an uncomfortable chair. 

Her hand lay on top of the white blanket. Her skin was red and raw, tight over the fine bones of her face. He slipped his fingers gently under hers. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Mulder," she rasped. Someone handed Mulder a paper cup of water and he steadied it for Scully, her free hand shaky over his as they lifted it to her lips. 

"Shh," he said. "I'm here. We're okay." 

"Moore?" she asked, when she was done with the water.

"He's okay too," he told her. "We're in quarantine. We inhaled too much luciferene, whatever that means."

"Means you might not need a nightlight for a few weeks," she said slowly.

He laughed and then coughed. "Definitely not running for a while."

"When can we go home?" she asked.

"I don't know," he told her. "They said we lost a lot of fluids. They're worried about you."

Her eyes searched his face. "You're not worried."

"I know you better than they do," he said. "I'm never worried about you."

She smiled and closed her eyes. "Next time, I hope it's Bigfoot."

"Me too," he said. 

Her fingers squeezed his and kept squeezing. He held on tight and said nothing.


End file.
